Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Kicking it off, with exhaustion
I really left Lima and hit the road, Jack. Sunday afternoon, I got out of the Cross Cultural Solutions van for the last time at a main bus station of Lima. Sitting on the steps outside was a girl who looked like she could be a gringa, and when our eyes met, I knew that she was Amy, the friend of a friend (who is currently living in Buenos Aires) who I have been in contact with for a few weeks and convinced to join me in travel through Southern Peru. I approached her immediately, and we started talking and talking. As it turns out, she is from Ann Arbor originally, went to college with a few of my friends, is Jewish, and has very similar eating patterns. So, engaged in much conversation, we boarded the bus to Arequipa.
As a night bus, departing at 5:30 pm and continuing on for a grand total of 15 hours, we were glad to find our bus seats rather large, confortable, and easy to recline. The food served for dinner was a strange quiche, that I unfortunately ate, and a shockingly savory piece of chocolate cake, that resembled banana bread from the outside. Truthfully, I prefered crackers and the small jar of peanut butter which I purchased in the Lima grocery...a quality find. We talked a bit, ate a bit, considered playing Bingo a bit, and as the evening rolled on, I felt my eyes growing more and more heavy. As I had slept for three hours the night before, and Amy had not slept at all (en route from Argentina), we nodded off.
I slept a lot more than expected on the bus, but as we rolled into Arequipa at 8:45 AM, I could not believe how my eyes burned and my limbs ached. But, I settled into my pack and we headed off to the hostel. The city was quaint, but much more of a metropolis than Ayacucho, or myriad other Peruvian cities I have visited thus far. The architecture on the single lane, cobblestone roads of one floor buildings was ornate and unique, and mostly light in color. I was impressed with the overall cleanliness and commercial aspect of the city, as it seems to be in the middle of barren land (without wildlife, or greenery, but lined with rocky mountains) and be home of a largely impoverished population.
We decided that after hitting up the buffet breakfast of tasty delights at our beautiful hostel, we needed to wander through the city a bit. Interested in booking a tour to the nearby Colca Canyon, we walked with our eyes out for travel agencies. This was no problem, considering there are literally hundreds (seemingly) who are just DYING to take you and your mom and your grandfather and his mom and everyone else you can possibly imagine on a trip to this nearby canyon. And, they do not just have trips to the Canyon...everyone tour group offers a, we will take you here first for breakfast to see the little city, here to see people in typical outfits dance, here for shopping, here to see a spectacular view, here for photos, here to see the condors fly around, and here to see the canyon, and then back through it all. Well, as much as Amy and I may look like tourists, we are not really into the whole tourist walk through this Canyon. Additionally, the tours are traditionally two days, as the Canyon in a near 6 hour drive from Arequipa. But, we wanted a one-day tour. All of them have these tours, but they begin at the early hour of 2 or 3 AM...just in case I thought that the 4 am wake up in the jungle was early.
We booked one. Randomly. Because we were delirious and could not compare the tours or listen to the promoters for these agencies anymore. Anyway, it felt a little less commercial, and said they would pick us up at 2:30.
Well, since we were exhausted already, we spent that first afternoon in Arequipa sleeping in our hostel. In the evening, we wandering through the streets, taking pictures of the adorned Cathedral and Plaza de Armas in the bustling center of the quaint city, and dining in a fabulous vegetarian restaurant with all the soy and tofu dishes you can possibly imagine. After eating, I was energized, but knew that I had to call it a night at 10 pm, as I would soon be getting up again.
1:30 am...the alarm went off. It was almost as if I were planning some kindo f strange activity at camp when we have to wake the kids up in the middle of the night, but no. I was going to see Colca Canyon, the third largest and deepest canyon in the world, with one of the most spectacular views on the continent. Although I was having a hard time talking due to my thorough exhaustion, I was able to say to Amy, this better be the coolest thing I have ever seen.
We got into a small van, which held about 10 people, and was full of an international group (Japanese men, a Peruvian couple, an Italian man, and another Peruvian man...and of course, us) and an English speaking guide. We began our drive, heading out of Arequipa and onward toward the Colca Valley, the area surrounding the Canyon. Wrapped in my multiple t-shits and sweatshirt, I leaned against the window of this van freezing, yearning for the sunrise.
As the sun cast a red and purple shadow on the sky, my watch read 5:15 am. And, around us, the mountains boasted gigantic rocks and large spans of greenery...small bushes and patches of tall grass. The valley below was mostly fields of purple and yellow flowers, which we learned were some of the 2000 varieties of the potato found in Peru. Although wanting to soak in the sunrise, I lost the battle against my eyelids, and slipped back into a now warmer sleep against the window.
We stopped at 6, and were told that we could get out of the van. I heard the stirring and awoke, to see that we had arrived at a small, dark, local restaurant, where we would be served bread and tea for breakfast. The restaurant was located in Chivay, a small, flat town of 5000 people planted in the valley. The few square blocks were organized by narrow, dirt roads and low rising, cement buildings. Inside the restaurant, we sat silently, in an early morning comotose. The only sound was the ice cream truck wanna be, child-like tonal garbage truck, making rounds.
We continued on to the next local town in the valley, called Yanque. This was more like a rolling stop, where we drove past the main square and stopped momentarily for pictures only. This town was much like Chivay, in the simplistic style of the buildings, and many indigenous residents busily wandering in the early morning. A group of women sat on the curb off the main plaza, adorned in traditional, brightly embroidered dress. They watched our van pull up, and seemingly were not bothered by the foreign footsteps on the plaza or the intrusive cameras. The sat on the curb, quietly talking to one another, enjoying a breakfast of bread and jam. Right there.
Next, we continued on for another two hours. Now, at this point, I was pretty awake (I think), because outside the windows of the van began the sensory overload that I heard happened upon reaching the Canyon. We ascended, through burrowing rock formations, alongside greenery kissed steepes, and fields of small yellow and purple flowered plants, which we later learned were indeed potato plants. At the very bottom of the valley flowed a lively river, clearly (meaning the water was clear) and calmly passing over thousands of rocks.
Finally, 6 hours of diving and two national park entrances later, the van stopped. We had reached the Cruz del Condor at Colca Canyon (tourist center of canyon, where condors are supposedly flying regularly). This place was magnificent. As a person who had never seen the Grand Canyon, or any canyon at all, I really had no frame of referrence. But, it was vast, deep, and seemed like a marvel. Rocks of red, yellow, and black lined the walls, and thick clouds moved through (obscuring pictures a hint).
Our small group met up with near 200 other tourists wandering off of giant charter buses at this point, which was a bit overwhelming. They were the people who approached the local women and children, again dressed in the typical embroidered skirts, blouses, and hats, selling water, snacks (Western snacks...like Oreos, Snickers, Milky Ways...oh, capitalism), and the presumably hand-made crafts that seem to flood Peruvian markets (hats, belts, scarves, the like...). Amy and I decided to sit down and soak up our surroundings, and searched for a nearby nook. As we sat on a set of nearby stairs, Amy and I noticed a girl, of likely 7 or 8 years old, dressed in the typical clothing, crouching behing a few rocks and imidly licking the creme filling out of two seperated Oreo cookies. Amy and I giggled to one and another, careful not to disturb this little girl, clearly taking a moment to indulge.
By the time we had left the focus of this little girl, the clouds had gotten thicker. It was nearly impossible to see a few feet in front of you, let alone see the Canyon or spot any condors. Very displeased with the weather, we headed back to the van and with that, we started to head back. That was it. View, people, little girl, clouds...fog. My canyon experience.
A few hours later, we returned to Chivay for some more coca tea and lunch, which I somehow swallowed down, and eventually, after many hours and a few stints of closing my eyes, we finally reutned to Arequipa. It was 5:30 pm. I am glad I went, but overall (as you can likely tell), I was pretty dissapointed.
After having a 15 hour excursion on three nights without sleep, we needed to relax. But, as this was our final night in Arequipa, I somehow convinced my glasses wearing, droopy eyed, heavy boned seld slowly out of the hostel. Amy and I breifly explored Arequipa. This is what I have to report:
-Crowded streets
-Excess of taxis
-An unfathomable number of bakeries displaying Barbie dreamhouse style birthday cakes
-A wonderful charm
I woke up this morning, feeling a bit stronger after closing my eyes under real covers for a few hours, and settling with the conclusion that traveling from now on will probably just mean exhaustion (and stealing the opportune moments of rest). We headed off to the bus station by 8 am, and by 8:45, we en route again. Our destination: Puno, one of the Southern-most cities in Peru and the gateway to Lake Titicaca.
The drive was a mere 6 hours, and I was proud of my IPOD for making the whole journey. We passed through the lushy covered and sparsely distributed Andean peaks, riding again on a winding, mountainside road. After passing a few large lakes and getting excited (and the bus stewardess consistantly assuring us that we had not yet reached THE lake we were all waiting for), we drove through Juliaca, Punos neighboring city. This was a small, extremely impverished city that haunted me a bit..barren, with dozens of stoic people enslaved by pushcarts (for trade or sale).
Puno was the next stop. From the surface, the bus rolled in and we arrived at the hostel, we were going on the largely popular backpacker judgement that this city is, at large, lame. To quote, a shit hole. Well, I have now been here a few hours and I already feel safe that I find it endearing. I recognize these small streets lined with Quechua people, selling their trade, craft, bread, or phone card. There is a plaza half the size of that of Ayacucho, and carries a bit less of the charm. But, where the plaza may lack, the view of this enormous, sparkling lake exceeds my expectations.
However, this is certainly where the tourists are. We have officially entered the Peruvian tourist curcuit. There are Aussies, Americans, Canadians, Europeans, and wealthy South Americans flooding the main, stone paved pedestrian street. I even spot them in the gringo restaurants...the ones with Spanish and English menus...that Amy and I seem to keep wandering into (oh, Lonely Planet...taking all of us tourists to the same places).
Tomorrow, we will wake up early and head out on a two day excursion exploring Lake Titicaca, and a few of its 30 islands. We plan to spend a night with a local family on the island of Amantani in the middle of the lake, a 3 hour motor boat ride from Puno. I will surely have much to report upon my return.
As a night bus, departing at 5:30 pm and continuing on for a grand total of 15 hours, we were glad to find our bus seats rather large, confortable, and easy to recline. The food served for dinner was a strange quiche, that I unfortunately ate, and a shockingly savory piece of chocolate cake, that resembled banana bread from the outside. Truthfully, I prefered crackers and the small jar of peanut butter which I purchased in the Lima grocery...a quality find. We talked a bit, ate a bit, considered playing Bingo a bit, and as the evening rolled on, I felt my eyes growing more and more heavy. As I had slept for three hours the night before, and Amy had not slept at all (en route from Argentina), we nodded off.
I slept a lot more than expected on the bus, but as we rolled into Arequipa at 8:45 AM, I could not believe how my eyes burned and my limbs ached. But, I settled into my pack and we headed off to the hostel. The city was quaint, but much more of a metropolis than Ayacucho, or myriad other Peruvian cities I have visited thus far. The architecture on the single lane, cobblestone roads of one floor buildings was ornate and unique, and mostly light in color. I was impressed with the overall cleanliness and commercial aspect of the city, as it seems to be in the middle of barren land (without wildlife, or greenery, but lined with rocky mountains) and be home of a largely impoverished population.
We decided that after hitting up the buffet breakfast of tasty delights at our beautiful hostel, we needed to wander through the city a bit. Interested in booking a tour to the nearby Colca Canyon, we walked with our eyes out for travel agencies. This was no problem, considering there are literally hundreds (seemingly) who are just DYING to take you and your mom and your grandfather and his mom and everyone else you can possibly imagine on a trip to this nearby canyon. And, they do not just have trips to the Canyon...everyone tour group offers a, we will take you here first for breakfast to see the little city, here to see people in typical outfits dance, here for shopping, here to see a spectacular view, here for photos, here to see the condors fly around, and here to see the canyon, and then back through it all. Well, as much as Amy and I may look like tourists, we are not really into the whole tourist walk through this Canyon. Additionally, the tours are traditionally two days, as the Canyon in a near 6 hour drive from Arequipa. But, we wanted a one-day tour. All of them have these tours, but they begin at the early hour of 2 or 3 AM...just in case I thought that the 4 am wake up in the jungle was early.
We booked one. Randomly. Because we were delirious and could not compare the tours or listen to the promoters for these agencies anymore. Anyway, it felt a little less commercial, and said they would pick us up at 2:30.
Well, since we were exhausted already, we spent that first afternoon in Arequipa sleeping in our hostel. In the evening, we wandering through the streets, taking pictures of the adorned Cathedral and Plaza de Armas in the bustling center of the quaint city, and dining in a fabulous vegetarian restaurant with all the soy and tofu dishes you can possibly imagine. After eating, I was energized, but knew that I had to call it a night at 10 pm, as I would soon be getting up again.
1:30 am...the alarm went off. It was almost as if I were planning some kindo f strange activity at camp when we have to wake the kids up in the middle of the night, but no. I was going to see Colca Canyon, the third largest and deepest canyon in the world, with one of the most spectacular views on the continent. Although I was having a hard time talking due to my thorough exhaustion, I was able to say to Amy, this better be the coolest thing I have ever seen.
We got into a small van, which held about 10 people, and was full of an international group (Japanese men, a Peruvian couple, an Italian man, and another Peruvian man...and of course, us) and an English speaking guide. We began our drive, heading out of Arequipa and onward toward the Colca Valley, the area surrounding the Canyon. Wrapped in my multiple t-shits and sweatshirt, I leaned against the window of this van freezing, yearning for the sunrise.
As the sun cast a red and purple shadow on the sky, my watch read 5:15 am. And, around us, the mountains boasted gigantic rocks and large spans of greenery...small bushes and patches of tall grass. The valley below was mostly fields of purple and yellow flowers, which we learned were some of the 2000 varieties of the potato found in Peru. Although wanting to soak in the sunrise, I lost the battle against my eyelids, and slipped back into a now warmer sleep against the window.
We stopped at 6, and were told that we could get out of the van. I heard the stirring and awoke, to see that we had arrived at a small, dark, local restaurant, where we would be served bread and tea for breakfast. The restaurant was located in Chivay, a small, flat town of 5000 people planted in the valley. The few square blocks were organized by narrow, dirt roads and low rising, cement buildings. Inside the restaurant, we sat silently, in an early morning comotose. The only sound was the ice cream truck wanna be, child-like tonal garbage truck, making rounds.
We continued on to the next local town in the valley, called Yanque. This was more like a rolling stop, where we drove past the main square and stopped momentarily for pictures only. This town was much like Chivay, in the simplistic style of the buildings, and many indigenous residents busily wandering in the early morning. A group of women sat on the curb off the main plaza, adorned in traditional, brightly embroidered dress. They watched our van pull up, and seemingly were not bothered by the foreign footsteps on the plaza or the intrusive cameras. The sat on the curb, quietly talking to one another, enjoying a breakfast of bread and jam. Right there.
Next, we continued on for another two hours. Now, at this point, I was pretty awake (I think), because outside the windows of the van began the sensory overload that I heard happened upon reaching the Canyon. We ascended, through burrowing rock formations, alongside greenery kissed steepes, and fields of small yellow and purple flowered plants, which we later learned were indeed potato plants. At the very bottom of the valley flowed a lively river, clearly (meaning the water was clear) and calmly passing over thousands of rocks.
Finally, 6 hours of diving and two national park entrances later, the van stopped. We had reached the Cruz del Condor at Colca Canyon (tourist center of canyon, where condors are supposedly flying regularly). This place was magnificent. As a person who had never seen the Grand Canyon, or any canyon at all, I really had no frame of referrence. But, it was vast, deep, and seemed like a marvel. Rocks of red, yellow, and black lined the walls, and thick clouds moved through (obscuring pictures a hint).
Our small group met up with near 200 other tourists wandering off of giant charter buses at this point, which was a bit overwhelming. They were the people who approached the local women and children, again dressed in the typical embroidered skirts, blouses, and hats, selling water, snacks (Western snacks...like Oreos, Snickers, Milky Ways...oh, capitalism), and the presumably hand-made crafts that seem to flood Peruvian markets (hats, belts, scarves, the like...). Amy and I decided to sit down and soak up our surroundings, and searched for a nearby nook. As we sat on a set of nearby stairs, Amy and I noticed a girl, of likely 7 or 8 years old, dressed in the typical clothing, crouching behing a few rocks and imidly licking the creme filling out of two seperated Oreo cookies. Amy and I giggled to one and another, careful not to disturb this little girl, clearly taking a moment to indulge.
By the time we had left the focus of this little girl, the clouds had gotten thicker. It was nearly impossible to see a few feet in front of you, let alone see the Canyon or spot any condors. Very displeased with the weather, we headed back to the van and with that, we started to head back. That was it. View, people, little girl, clouds...fog. My canyon experience.
A few hours later, we returned to Chivay for some more coca tea and lunch, which I somehow swallowed down, and eventually, after many hours and a few stints of closing my eyes, we finally reutned to Arequipa. It was 5:30 pm. I am glad I went, but overall (as you can likely tell), I was pretty dissapointed.
After having a 15 hour excursion on three nights without sleep, we needed to relax. But, as this was our final night in Arequipa, I somehow convinced my glasses wearing, droopy eyed, heavy boned seld slowly out of the hostel. Amy and I breifly explored Arequipa. This is what I have to report:
-Crowded streets
-Excess of taxis
-An unfathomable number of bakeries displaying Barbie dreamhouse style birthday cakes
-A wonderful charm
I woke up this morning, feeling a bit stronger after closing my eyes under real covers for a few hours, and settling with the conclusion that traveling from now on will probably just mean exhaustion (and stealing the opportune moments of rest). We headed off to the bus station by 8 am, and by 8:45, we en route again. Our destination: Puno, one of the Southern-most cities in Peru and the gateway to Lake Titicaca.
The drive was a mere 6 hours, and I was proud of my IPOD for making the whole journey. We passed through the lushy covered and sparsely distributed Andean peaks, riding again on a winding, mountainside road. After passing a few large lakes and getting excited (and the bus stewardess consistantly assuring us that we had not yet reached THE lake we were all waiting for), we drove through Juliaca, Punos neighboring city. This was a small, extremely impverished city that haunted me a bit..barren, with dozens of stoic people enslaved by pushcarts (for trade or sale).
Puno was the next stop. From the surface, the bus rolled in and we arrived at the hostel, we were going on the largely popular backpacker judgement that this city is, at large, lame. To quote, a shit hole. Well, I have now been here a few hours and I already feel safe that I find it endearing. I recognize these small streets lined with Quechua people, selling their trade, craft, bread, or phone card. There is a plaza half the size of that of Ayacucho, and carries a bit less of the charm. But, where the plaza may lack, the view of this enormous, sparkling lake exceeds my expectations.
However, this is certainly where the tourists are. We have officially entered the Peruvian tourist curcuit. There are Aussies, Americans, Canadians, Europeans, and wealthy South Americans flooding the main, stone paved pedestrian street. I even spot them in the gringo restaurants...the ones with Spanish and English menus...that Amy and I seem to keep wandering into (oh, Lonely Planet...taking all of us tourists to the same places).
Tomorrow, we will wake up early and head out on a two day excursion exploring Lake Titicaca, and a few of its 30 islands. We plan to spend a night with a local family on the island of Amantani in the middle of the lake, a 3 hour motor boat ride from Puno. I will surely have much to report upon my return.
# posted by Marci Soifer @ 4:19 PM 
